That Time of the Month
by whimseyrhodes
Summary: Sam plays the part of chew toy to some very nasty critters. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

Disclaimers: Duh, they ain't mine, no money made, don't sue (cause it ain't worth the pocket lint).

Summary: Sam plays the part of a chew toy for some really nasty critters.

A/N: I was requested to a werewolf fic, so I'm attempting to do that, but with my own little twist. Slightly AU, b/c I don't intend to write in this particular reality again.

**That Time of the Month**

**Prologue**

Sam turns furry once a month now. Dean is a little bothered by that fact, and their hunting has taken a slightly twisted turn. There has been an adjustment that both have had to make, and that has placed strain on both. They used to just hunt the monsters, but now that Sam has become one of that which they used to hunt, the dynamics have changed through necessity. They used to hunt the monsters by instinct with a little help from their father, but now Sam can sense the others sometimes, which freaks Dean out to no end.

Ah, but I forget. We've been, ah, 'out of touch', shall we say, for quite a few months now. Perhaps we had best go to the very beginning...

A/N (again): Just wanted to get this piece out, not sure how soon there will be updates tho, RL is a bitch.


	2. Were ,,, what?

Thanks for all the reveiws so far, and on just a short-short intro! I'm touched you guys like my writing. (blush)

A/N: I inserted some stuff on were-animals in this story, mostly courtesy of Laurell K. Hamilton's 'Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter' novels. If you haven't read any, CHECK THEM OUT! They're absolutely phenomenal. (and hilarious, too :)

**That Time of the Month**

**Chapter One: Were...what?**

"OK, Dean, tell me again...Why St. Louis?"

"Well, let me see, could it be because, oh, I don't know, Dad sent us the coordinates for St. Louis? Now shut up and let me drive," Dean said for what had to be the three hundredth time. Actually, it was only the third, but it seemed like a lot more after being cramped in the car with an insomniac for a passenger.

While on the way from South Carolina to Missouri, Sam had done a little research in the motel they had stayed in one night. He had found news articles on a rash of attacks in the heart of St. Louis, mainly attributed to animals, particularily something with large pointy claws and teeth. So, as the brothers Winchester drove into the metropolis, they mentally checked every round of ammo in their arsenal, particularily silver.

Sam studied the atmosphere of western St. Louis as Dean manouvered the car through the winding streets. They ended up at a hotel in a rather seedy area of town, near a park where the most recent attack had occured about a week prior . As Sam and Dean had already figured out, the assaults had happened mostly around the time of the full moon. What was puzzling, however, was the fact that the autopsy reports (and don't ask Sam how he got them) had attributed the deaths to a large cat, not a wolf, as they had previously predicted.

"So, are we still looking for a werewolf?" Sam wanted to know.

"Why ask me, dude?" Dean answered his question with a question.

"Because the smart ass big brother _always _has the answers, that's why," he replied.

Dean glared at Sam. "You're the college boy. You tell me, professor."

"Look," Sam sighed exasperatedly, "Let's just admit we don't know, and that we'll have to take in some of the local color and do some digging?"

"Local color? This is St. Louis, not New Orleans, Sammy."

"Sam! And would you stop arguing already? Let's go."

**oooOOOooo**

It took the brothers almost a week to figure out the pattern of the events, and another three days to narrow down the range of victims, leaving a window of another week before the next attack.

"Why are most of the victims strippers?" Sam wondered out loud to himself.

Overhearing, Dean said, "Well, the area is heavy with strip clubs, so you're going to either get strippers or their clients."

"Yeah, I know that, but why here? Why this area? Does the killer have something against strip clubs or something?"

"Dude, unless you're planning a little sit-down chat with our buddy, we're not gonna know. All I gotta know is where and when to find the slobbering sucker, and put more silver in 'em than Fort Knox."

"Gold."

"Huh?"

"Gold is in Fort Knox, not silver."

"Well, gold bullets ain't gonna make that bastard anything but rich, Sam. Silver kills them."

Sam just nodded and rolled his eyes at his brother's stubborn refusal to think logically. He had been increasingly hard to deal with since realizing that there was another week to wait. Dean and waiting just did not go together well.

"Look, I'm gonna go get some coffee, you want any?" Sam asked. Anything to get out of the cramped hotel room with his cabin-fever-crazed brother.

"No, not really. Sure you don't want company?"

"I'll be fine. We've got another week, at least."

Dean waved absently, his brain already ensconsed in the newest Hot Rod magazine he had picked up from a street vendor earlier that night.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam walked through the dark side street juggling his hot coffee in one hand, and a donut and newspaper in the other. The donut and coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other didn't work because he either spilled hot coffee on his chin or got donut sugar up his nose; and the coffee and newspaper in one hand didn't work because he kept poking the paper in his eye when he tried to drink. He was just about to forget the multi-tasking and drop the paper altogether when he heard the sound of a scuffle in the park just ahead.

_"Dammit, Dean, where are you when I need you?"_ he thought. Dropping paper, donut and coffee, he slipped quietly into the brush, unsheathing the silver blade at his belt at the same time.

He was close to the two fighters when all sound stopped. He froze.

He waited for what seemed to be hours before he heard a soft gurgle coming from in front of him. Clutching the blade more firmly in his hand, he crept forward and peered out at the clearing. On the ground in front of him lay a young man, in his late 20's, not moving. Sam knelt beside the body warily and put his fingers on the man's neck, glancing around continuously. There was no pulse. There was also no reason to try to resuscitate him, as his throat had been nearly slashed open.

Sam realized that this was no ordinary mugger, this was the killer he and Dean were after. With no warning, he sprang up and launched himself into a sprint. His long legs ate up the ground and he was out of the park and about two hundred yards from the hotel when something hurtled into his back, knocking him violently to the ground.

He was barely able to put his arms out to try to break his fall, and even then, his body slammed into the concrete with enough force to drive the breath from his lungs. Rolling over, he tried desperately to catch his breath, knowing that if he didn't he would die.

Something moved at the corner of his eye, almost too fast for him to track it, and he scrambled back on hands and feet, still not steady enough to rise. He had dropped the knife in his fall, and spotted it near the street gutter. Crab-crawling towards it, he tried to shake his blurred eyes back into focus and had nearly succeeded when he felt the hilt of the knife with his hand. He curled his fingers around it, feeling a little safer with it in his grip. With the hair on the back of his neck trying to jump down his collar for safety, he stood up and looked around.

This time he was attacked from the right, the huge furry body bearing him down onto his left side. Sam felt a couple of ribs crack as the weight of the creature crushed him. He felt fur on his neck, and rancid breath on his cheek. He could hear and feel the rumbling growl in the creature's chest as it rested on him.

Suddenly the weight was gone.

_"Uh-oh,"_ was all he had time to think before the pain ripped through him. The creature swung a massive clawed hand at Sam and caught him in the back on the right side, all four claws burying themselves in his flesh. He felt his body sailing through the air and he landed in the middle of the deserted street, too weak, breathless, and in too much pain to even consider moving.

He felt the hot breath of the animal on his neck again, and tried to brace himself for another assault.

It didn't come. Instead, he found himself on the edge of a pack of large animals.

_"Now I know how the rabbit feels,"_ he thought fuzzily.

The new animals surrounded his assailant, and he saw the form of a dark-haired woman approaching. Sam wanted to try to warn her, but his fight-or-flight instinct heavily favored flight, for the time being. Struggling to his feet, he wobbled to edge of the building in front of him, and ducked around the corner. The last glimpse he thought he had of the woman was of her standing with her hands on her hips, staring down the creature who had attacked him.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean jerked awake from his dream, an awful feeling creeping up his spine. He nearly jumped onto the ceiling when he heard pounding on the door of the room.

"Dean..." He could hear Sam call from outside.

He sighed heavily.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he yelled, "Forget the damn keys again?"

Dean stalked angrily over to the door and yanked it open. Sam leaned heavily against the doorframe, his cheek scratched and blood dripping from his lips and nose. He clutched his right side, and blinked rapidly.

"Oh God, Sammy!"

Sam's eyes rolled up and his head fell back as his body collapsed as if his strings were cut. Dean caught him just before he hit the floor.


	3. Finally, Family

Reviews:thanks goes out to Ghostwriter, Final Spirit, Adara-chan15, Mystery, CrazyDisaster, GuestTypePerson and supernaturalfan0718...I see many repeat reviewers, and I heart you!

Yeah, Final Spirit, I figured it was you, so here it is. Is it a were'wolf' story? It is, and it isn't. This is my twist. Hope you like it!

A/N: Anita Blake, Zane, Cherry, Nathaniel and Micah belong to Laurell K. Hamilton, not me. Oh yeah, changed the rating to 'M'...you'll see why.

**That Time of the Month**

**Chapter Two: Finally, Family**

Dean grabbed Sam as his body started to fall to the ground. Scooping his brother up into his arms, he staggered to the bed and placed Sam onto the covers. He stood up straight and took a good look at the young hunter. His face was pale grey, except where it was smeared with blood. There was blood soaking his t-shirt under his light jacket. Dean grabbed the first aid kit and started to strip the clothes off Sam's body. When he removed the t-shirt, he gasped in horror. From the look of the wounds on his right back and abdomen, four claws had entered his back and stabbed right through to the front, probably piercing his liver and/or kidney, and possibly breaking a few ribs, just for starters. All Dean could do was tightly wrap bandages around his brother's abdomen and prepare to take him to the hospital.

Sam started to stir as he wrapped the injuries.

"D...Dean...?"

"Hang on, Sammy, we're going to the hospital," he tried to reassure his brother.

"N...no...no, don't. It was...was the...creature," Sam slurred.

"I know that, bro, but you're hurt bad, I can't take care of this. We have to go to the hospital."

"Won't unnerstan..." Sam lapsed back into unconciousness just as a hard rapping sounded on the door.

"WHO THE HELL IS IT?" Dean raged.

"Please open the door," a female voice called.

Dean ran to the door, heedless of the blood soaking his shirt, arms and hands, and yanked it open. "I do NOT have time for this!" he yelled into the face of the petite woman standing in front of him.

"Anita Blake, Federal Marshal," she said calmly. "And I think I can help you."

Dean stared at the badge (he knew it was real, he had faked enough of them) blankly. At his look, the woman continued.

"Your friend was just attacked by a were. I can help him."

"My brother," Dean corrected her dazedly, then, "A what? A 'were'? 'Were' what?"

"Stop that. You're confusing yourself. And me," Anita said as she shouldered past him, heading for the king-sized bed on which Sam lay. Belatedly, Dean realized that she was moving too close to Sam. She could get close enough to hurt his brother!

He grabbed her by the arm and whirled her around. "Who are you, what are you doing here, and what do you want with my brother!" he demanded, finally gaining control of himself.

"Look, I told you, I'm Anita Blake, Federal Marshal, and I can help. Your brother was attacked by a rogue were-leopard that I've been tracking. This were is new to his beast, and not able to control it, and doesn't have a safehouse to change in when the moon changes, so his changes are erratic and dangerous. I've been hunting him for three months, and now you and your brother have complicated things."

"Like we tried?" Dean interrupted rudely.

"Let me finish. I know you probably don't want to go to the hospital, seeing your, uh, unusual baggage," she indicated the various shotguns and pistols strewn on the floor at the foot of Dean's bed. "I can help him, I have friends who can help heal him. Just let me bring them over here."

"No way, lady. I don't know who the hell you are or how you think you can help him, but he's got holes in his liver and kidney and broken bones and probably lots of other things wrong and those don't just go away without a hell of a lot of help, as well as major surgery!" Dean rambled. He was way past pissed now. They should have been halfway to the ER by now.

"He won't die from that. He can't. Not now, anyway."

"Talk or walk, but stop being so fucking cryptic!"

"He's a were-leopard now, those claw wounds have turned him, and he is too strong now to die from them."

Dean sat heavily on the edge of the bed. He had known somewhere deep inside that somehow Sam was going to pull through this one, and had known even deeper that the reason was because he had been attacked by the very thing they were hunting, and now changed into a monster himself. Part of him, a very infintesimal part, urged him to kill his brother now, to save them from the pain and anguish which would follow. The other part kicked the smaller part's ass and decided to accept this Blake's proposal if it meant saving his brother's life.

"Alright, what do you want me to do?"

"Just get the rest of his clothes off and monitor him while I make a few phone calls."

Dean went back to Sam, who still lay pale as death on the bed. He started to slowly strip off his shoes, jeans and boxers and cover him with a light blanket as he heard Anita make a couple of calls to someone named Micah and Zane. Sam moaned softly and tears formed under his long dark lashes, spilling over his cheek. Dean gently brushed them away, his hand lingering on his brothers forehead.

"They'll be here soon. He'll be alright," she said softly, trying to comfort him. "And I need to tell you a few things."

Dean looked at her warily as she said that.

"The next few hours, or days, will be pretty wierd for you."

"Lady, you don't have a clue what's 'wierd' for me," Dean growled.

"That may be true, but have you ever been in the middle of a pack of were-leopards?" she challenged.

"You said you'd bring help! Not more of the fucking monsters to eat us!" Dean started to jump up, aiming for the shotgun.

He stopped in his tracks as a Browning .357 was pointed at his face.

"Stop being stupid and listen to me, you stubborn son of a bitch." Anita slowly lowered the gun, but didn't holster it.

"I said I'd bring help, and the were-leopards _will _help. What your brother..."

"Sam."

...what _Sam_ needs now is his pack. He needs the comfort of others like him to be around him and near him. As wounded as he is, he needs them to be close. Very close." Anita looked Dean straight in the eye to make sure he understood. "The three that are coming are Zane, he's the big tall blonde, Cherry, who used to be a nurse, and Nathaniel. Are you OK with this?"

"You ask me that now?" Dean half-laughed. He knew he was bordering on hysterical, but he grabbed onto sanity with an iron fist. "Just promise me he'll be OK."

"He will. I promise."

Dean nodded and curled up at the head of the bed, gathering his unconsious brother into his arms. He had no choice. If Sam lived, it would be worth it. If he didn't, Dean would rip this woman and the rest of her 'friends' to shreds with his bare hands and his fury.

**oooOOOooo**

Another knock sounded at the door, and this time Anita answered it. She stepped back to let the newcomers in, and they _flowed_ around her into the room with an uncommon grace. They were all beautiful to look at: Zane was tall and well-muscled, his broad chest filling the white t-shirt almost to popping, and the black leather pants looked sprayed on. Cherry stood beside him, her spiked red hair and shocking makeup marking her as goth-chic, her short skirt, hose, and high heels almost made Dean think 'stripper'. The last, who stood shyly behind the others, was a shorter man, though a little taller than Dean, with long straight auburn hair that flowed down his back, and when Nathanial looked at Dean, the beautiful lavender eyes shocked him.

"Guys, this is Dean. The one on the bed is Sam, he was attacked by Ian. He is pard."

Dean started to question the strange word, but before he could say anything, the three started to slide out of their clothes and approach Sam.

"Hey! Waitaminnit! What're you...!"

"Don't interrupt," Anita said as she pulled him away from the others. "I told you they have to get very close to Sam. That means 'very, very' close."

"They're not gonna..." he gulped.

"No, this isn't sexual. It may be sensual, but it's meant to just be closeness. Togetherness. The intimacy of the pard."

"There's that word again...'pard'?"

"It's their word for pack."

"Oh," Dean said almost breathlessly as he nervously watched what was happening.

The three were-leopards had stripped off all of their clothing, unashamed in the least to be completely nude in front of each other and a stranger. They slipped softly under the cover and gathered Sam into their arms. Zane lay by Sam's right side, Nathaniel on his left, and Cherry draped over the three of them. They softly caressed Sam's body, nuzzling their noses into his skin and inhaling his scent.

"Pine. He smells like pine," Zane whispered, his face buried in Sam's neck.

To Dean's shock (again), they started licking Sam with their raspy tounges. They licked the blood off of his arms and chest, then turned him gently onto his left side, snuggling him into Nathaniel's embrace. He held Sam tenderly as Zane cleaned the wounds on Sam's back. Sam whimpered a little as the scratchy tongue found the painful claw marks, but Nathaniel stroked the back of his head, and he settled again. Cherry slithered around to lick at the punctures on the front of his abdomen, sliding her hand into the small of Sam's back and pressing his skin coser to her lips.

Dean didn't know whether to be fascinated, or horrified by the intimate scene in front of him.

"Think of them as really big kitties. I do. They need the security of their group, their kind, especially if they're wounded. They are cleaning his wounds, even better than regular old water and antiseptic. For some reason, after the change, their bodies react better to their own saliva than man-made substances. This closeness will also help him through his healing, which, by the way, will be extremely fast."

Dean heard the words Anita said, but didn't really listen. He watched Sam's face, so tortured by pain before the others arrived, now so peaceful, and even content as he snuggled deeper into their embrace.

Dean's next thought frightened him even more than the thought of Sam's death.

_'Am I going to loose him after all?'_


	4. Furry

I'm sorry Final Spirit, no wereWOLVES here...:'(

Sorry to you too, Adara-chan15, I updated extra soon just for you (even tho I wasn't even expecting to write it all til after xmas!)

**That Time of the Month**

**Chapter Three: Furry**

Sam felt the horrible pain wracking his body, stealing his breath. He felt somewhere, somehow, someone was removing his clothes. Every tiny movement sent fire lancing through his bones, and flashes of light seared his eyes. He heard himself moaning and felt tears make their way down his cheeks. A hand gently brushed them away, then rested on his forehead. He tried to push into that hand; somehow he knew it was Dean, comforting him, protecting him.

He felt Dean lift his shoulders slightly, then Dean's comforting warmth slid beneath him, cradling him in his brother's arms. He drifted a while, waiting for the next tidal wave to break.

Sam felt his brother's warm presence abruptly leave him, and he was dropped back into the sea of agony that Dean had helped keep at bay. The fire in his back and chest was agony, the raw edges of the wounds shifted with every breath he took, and each inhalation make the broken ends of the bones grate against each other.

But now a new presence, _three_ new presences, surrounded him on all sides. The feeling of 'family' enveloped him, and their touch was warm heaven on his chilled skin. He felt them wrap themselves around his body, touching every part of his skin to theirs, inhaling his scent and marking him with theirs. The exquisite feeling of belonging embraced him along with their arms, as their hands caressed him he felt their protective and proprietary comfort wrap his limbs in a comforting lack of pain.

He felt tongues licking his neck, his back and his chest. Somewhere he felt he should be disturbed, but the feeling of being a cub in his mother's arms was overwhelming. He submitted to the grooming with pleasure. The tongue meandered towards the pain, however, and he whimpered. He felt himself drawn even deeper into their embrace, and the scent of vanilla washed over him and he calmed. He felt someone licking his abdomen, he knew it was a female. Curiously, he wasn't aroused as she slid over his groin to get closer to the wounds on his stomach, pressing her hand into the small of his back, wrapping her other arm around his thigh.

The soft play of skin on skin continued to lull him as their hands caressed him, and the warmth of their bodies pulled him into blackness.

**oooOOOooo**

A long while later, Sam unwillingly opened his eyes. He felt three warm, sleeping bodies pressed against him and he was reluctant to move.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead and he opened his eyes to find Dean leaning over him, looking at him worriedly.

"Hey, bro, how ya feelin'?" Dean asked him.

"...mmmm, tired."

"Mind if I check how you're doing?"

Sam shook his head.

Dean pulled the covers down to Sam's waist and gasped. The horrible wounds had been angry, red and swollen only a day ago, but now they looked like they had been inflicted over a month ago. The wicked punctures had been replaced with scars that were soft and pink.

Sam felt his companions stirring, and Dean backed off.

"Dean?"

"Uh, there's a lot to, uh, explain here, dude," Dean said as another figure stepped up behind him. Sam recognized her: she was the woman he had seen in the streeet after he was attacked.

"This is Anita Blake. She's got a lot of things to tell us."

**oooOOOooo**

Essentially, as Anita laid it out for us, lycanthropy comes in several forms, even rats. Disgusting. Wolves are the most common, but by no means the only. Sam had been infected by leopards. Which meant when he gets furry, he turns into a huge cat. The newer lycanthropes often have difficulty learning to control their 'beasts', as Anita called them. That's what had happened to Ian, the one who had attacked Sam. He had gone on a rampage, having been bitten himself, and with no one to help him throught the first transformations, started killing. Anita and her friends had cornered him, but he had gotten away from them later.

What she wanted to do then, was have us stay with them for a couple of months and teach Sam how to handle this new complication. Sam was agreeable, but Dean wasn't. He didn't want to 'waste time' waiting while Dad was still out there, somewhere. He finally agreed, however, after Sam pointed out the fact that he didn't want to turn rogue and start killing people at random.

So we spent two months in St. Louis learning how to handle Sam's new beast, and Dean tried to learn to accept the fact that Sam was closer to the beasts that they hunted than he used to be.

We now have a new mission, in addition to finding Dad. Dean is under the impression that if we can find the 'monster' that attacked Sam and kill it, then Sam will be OK again. Normal again. Sam doesn't know if that is true or not. He can feel his beast growing inside him more and more, filling the small gaps and cracks of his psyche, so that he is hard pressed to tell where he ends and his beast begins. He isn't afraid that he will eventually be lost, and the beast will be the only thing inhabiting his body. Rather, he is learning it, discovering it, even embracing it and making it a part of himself.

You might be wondering how it is that I know Sam so well. You could say that we know each other. We know each others hopes and desires, dreams, fears, and hungers. We know each other quite intimately. You see, I am his beast.

fin

A/N: Much shorter than the last, but I hope you enjoyed...?


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